War Is Over
by D G Spendlove
Summary: Harry and Severus get together after they learn some truths about each other.
1. Chapter 1

Title: War Is Over  
  
Author: D G Spendlove  
  
Pairing: HP/SS  
  
Rating: R  
  
Summary: Harry and Snape get together, eventually.   
  
Disclaimer: No infringement intended. No money being made, etc.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Severus Snape sat in the darkest corner of the "Hounds of Hell" and threw back another jigger of firewhiskey. He was forty years old and his life was over. Voldemort had been destroyed once and for all, and with him, his sole purpose in life. He felt redundant. He'd spent his entire adult life either fighting for Voldemort or fighting against him.   
  
The Dark Lord had defined his entire adult life. Without him, he felt like nothing. He was drinking to forget - and so far it was working. He forgot where his legs were and his whole body was numb. He forgot the spell to disapparate and he forgot where he would have gone to anyway. He raised his head and surveyed the dimly lit room, looking unsteadily for the easiest way to the bathroom.  
  
He was so far-gone that his field of vision had narrowed right down and the room was spinning alarmingly. He folded his arms and collapsed onto them. He shut his eyes tightly and prayed for oblivion. The nauseous feeling abated somewhat with his head down, as long as he didn't move. The room around him seemed to be madly rotating and the nausea flowed in and out like waves. The noise from the crowded pub now faded to a dull roar.  
  
**********  
  
Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, aurors in training, had been sent by Albus Dumbledore to look for Professor Snape. He had disappeared after an argument with Dumbledore after the latest Friday night meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.   
  
It was a cold January Saturday, and Albus had become worried when Snape did not return to Hogwarts. They were reluctant to do the job, but Albus had reminded them that the members of the Order should stick together and look after their own. They had split up about an hour ago. It was three am and they'd been to almost every pub in Diagon Alley and Knockturn alley. Harry was starting to give up, find Ron and go home when he noticed a banner down a side alley, which proclaimed the 'Hounds of Hell'. //That sounds like *his* kind of place// he thought, and shouldered his way through the door.   
  
It was dark and smoky inside and he blinked as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. He peered through the gloom and went up to the bar. A couple of hags eyed him warily. He cleared his throat and caught the bartender's attention.   
  
"Excuse me, " he said politely, putting down a couple of galleons. "I'm looking for a wizard from Hogwarts."  
  
The old and grizzled man looked at him quizically with his one good eye, then jerked a thumb towards the back corner. "Over there, in the corner, he ain't no regular. Powerful wizard, though."  
  
Harry looked over. Severus Snape did not look particularly powerful right now. His head was resting on his hands, his greasy dark hair covering his face and spilling onto the bar table. Harry strode over to him.  
  
As he stood there looking down at his former teacher he heard a groan.  
  
"Sir?" he said, hesitantly.  
  
Snape looked up blearily, not really seeing Harry and muttered, "I think I'm going to be sick." He put a hand to his mouth and tried to get up. Harry stood back quickly as Snape leaned over and proceeded to vomit all over his shoes.   
  
A hag who had been watching sidled up to Harry and said, "If anyone did that t'me, I'd hex 'em."  
  
Harry ignored her and spelled the mess away. He hauled Snape out of the seat and held him upright. Harry cast another spell to make his burden weigh less and with his arms holding up the older wizard, dragged him into a dingy men's room. He pushed him into the only cubicle and heard Snape collapse on the floor and then start vomiting again.  
  
Harry stood outside, feeling slightly revolted. He had never seen Snape in this condition. It seemed odd that he would go off the deep end now, when all the pressure was off. Years spent as a spy hadn't cracked his stern façade, and now, here he was - when they had finally won - absolutely cracking up. He pulled out his message sphere and called Ron.  
  
"Ron, I've found him. Meet me outside 'The Evil Weed'," he said.  
  
He looked under the door of the stall. Snape appeared to have passed out on the floor. Harry rolled his eyes, waved his wand and said, "Alohamora." It was hard to push the door open as Snape was behind it. Finally he dragged him out, pulled him over to the sinks and splashed some water on his face. Harry tried to wake him up to no avail.  
  
He shook his head in disgust, and levitated the slimy git back into the bar, out the door and down the road to his rendezvouz with Ron.  
  
Ronald Weasley stood alone in the middle of Knockturn Alley, kicking absentmindedly at the gutter. He kept his head down and tried not to attract any attention. There were some decidedly weird looking specimens around. He looked up as he heard someone approach. It was a tall slim wizard of indeterminate age. He was wearing a dark suit and faintly reminded him of Snape.   
  
"Nice evening," the man said, meeting his eyes and giving him a brief but searching look."Are you waiting for someone?" He then looked him up and down, his eyes stopping to rest at his crotch level. "How much for the rest of the night?"  
  
Ron blinked. He felt himself flush. "Oh, um.....I'm not, er...."  
  
"Pity," said the man, suddenly reaching out and running his hand down Ron's arm. "See you later."   
  
Ron breathed a sigh of relief as the man walked slowly away, looking back at him every now and again. He was never more relieved than when he saw Snape floating down the alley, closely followed by Harry.  
  
"Am I glad to see you, mate!" he exclaimed as Harry approached. "What's wrong with him?"  
  
"Drunk as a skunk." Harry pulled out the Portkey the Headmaster had given him and held it out to Ron. He released the levitation spell on Professor Snape and caught him carefully, holding him upright while Ron activated the Portkey that would take them all back to Hogwarts.  
  
**********  
  
The Headmaster met them at the gates and guided them to a secret passage that led directly down into the dungeons. Harry levitated Snape again and they followed Dumbledore down a dank, musty tunnel. He then led them up a narrow, twisting spiral staircase that did not move. It was recessed into a buttressed column and Harry had to be very careful not to knock Snape's head on the stonework.   
  
Harry noticed that the Headmaster's steps got slower the further up they went. He was still weak from the final battle and Harry was worried about him.  
  
"We'll look after him from here, sir," Harry said as they paused at the top of the staircase. "If you could just show us where his quarters are?"  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "Thank you, Harry. I am feeling rather drained tonight. His room is just along this corridor. Third door on the left." With that Dumbledore bade them goodnight and disappeared through a doorway that appeared in the wall beside him.  
  
"Come on Harry, let's get rid of this greasy git and get back to Grimmauld Place." Ron walked ahead. "Here it is," he announced, "Third door on the left."  
  
Harry came up with the Professor's body floating along in front of him. He carefully deposited it on the floor. He had to admit he was curious to see the Potion masters quarters. In the seven years he had been at Hogwarts he had never even managed to get a glimpse of Snape's private living space.   
  
His Occlumency lessons had always been held in Snape's office. As far as he knew, none of the students had even been invited to Snape's private sanctuary. He imagined it as a cosy suite of rooms, with a sitting room filled with bookcases piled high with weighty tomes on Potions and other magical subjects. A roaring fire with an old worn wingback chair in front of it, with an antique table nestling close by to hold the inevitable cup of steaming tea.  
  
There would be a door in one wall, left slightly ajar to reveal a glimpse of an enormous four poster bed, hung in green and silver and spread with black satin sheets.  
  
His imaginings could not have been further from the truth.  
  
Ron tried a spell to open the door, but nothing happened. Harry noticed a large old cast iron key protruding from the keyhole and turned it. The lock clicked and the door creaked open.  
  
Harry and Ron peered into the darkness. Ron whispered a spell that would light the wall sconces, but nothing happened. He looked at Harry, mystified. Then he used his wand to cast lumos, walking into the room.  
  
"Are you sure this is the right room?" Harry asked, looking around in confusion.  
  
"This was the third door on the left." Ron was looking around too. "And it's not a room. It's a bloody cell!"   
  
Harry and Ron perused the cell in silence. It was about ten foot square and the ceiling, floor and walls were all bare, bleak grey granite. A narrow metal bunk was suspended from one wall cantilevered on hinges and chains. It was spread with a thin old mattress and blankets that had seen better days. High on one wall was a grated opening, presumably for ventilation as it did not admit any light.   
  
Another wall held manacles and hand and foot level.  
  
Harry and Ron looked at each other in horror.   
  
"Gawd, no wonder he was always stalking around the castle at night! How could anyone *sleep* in here?"  
  
For some unknown reason Harry was moved to anger on Snape's behalf. Dumbledore knew what this room was like. Why on earth didn't he give Snape something more comfortable?  
  
Next to the bed was a small chest of drawers. Harry pulled the top drawer open. There were a couple of clean, folded shirts inside. They looked like the type that Snape wore. The second drawer held what looked like underwear. Harry closed it quickly. The third drawer held several small bottles of potions, labeled in Snape's own handwriting, plus what looked like personal papers. He pulled one out and stepped closer to the light from Ron's wand.  
  
"Look at this. It's release papers from Azkaban, with his name on them."  
  
"So this *is* his room then. Does it say what he was in for?" Ron scanned the paper.  
  
"It says, 'for being a Death Eater, and particpating in many nefarious crimes against humanity'. Merlin, he was given a life sentence!"  
  
Ron sniggered, "No wonder he reformed. Anyone would when faced with a choice like that."  
  
For some reason this comment also angered Harry. He had seen things in Snape's mind that led him to believe that the man had never had a choice, in anything.  
  
Harry put the paper away and shut the drawer. "Come on, let's get him to bed then."  
  
He levitated Snape inside and gently laid him on the bed. It was cold in the cell, and he realised with a shock that there was no fireplace. He pulled one of the blankets out from under the Professor and with it came a thin grey nightshirt.  
  
"We should try to make him comfortable," Harry said, tugging off the prone man's boots. Snape's socks did not have holes in them, but they were worn very thin.  
  
Ron snorted. "Go for your life, mate, but there's no way I'm touching that greasy son of a bitch."   
  
Harry gave him a stern look, but Ron walked out like a man who had no intention of coming back.  
  
Harry looked in the bottom drawer for a potion labeled 'Hangover Cure' in vain. He settled the man as comfortably as he could, covering him with the blankets and placing a warming spell over him.  
  
He got up to leave, glancing around the room again. There was no obvious access to a bathroom. He wondered where Snape washed. Oh god, he thought with a pang, is *that* why his hair is always so greasy? He has nowhere to wash it. Harry gulped. He felt sick. Suddenly he had lots of questions and the only source of information was Albus Dumbledore. Obviously Snape would not discuss his private matters with Harry Potter. As he left the room the door closed with a whomp and the key turned by itself in the lock. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Harry walked back up to the main levels deep in thought. He would have to see the Headmaster tomorrow. Surprisingly, he was ....concerned for Snape. He analysed his feelings and concluded that he was the type of person who could not ignore an injustice. Snape had been instrumental in their defeat of Voldemort. The suffering that he had endured to prove his allegiance to the Dark Lord and then gain crucial information for the Order had been hinted at by Tonks and Shacklebolt.   
  
Ron was talking to Professor McGonagall in the main hall. Perhaps she knew something about it. Harry smiled at her and Ron said goodbye and started walking to the door.   
  
"Go on without me, Ron. I want to talk to Professor McGonagall," Harry called.  
  
"Okay mate, see you later."  
  
Minerva looked at him curiously.  
  
"Can you please let me into the Potions classroom, Professor?" Harry asked.  
  
"Whatever for, Harry?"  
  
"I need to get something for Professor Snape."  
  
"Did he *ask* you for something?"   
  
"Not exactly, but he needs a potion or he'll feel like hell when he wakes up."  
  
McGonagall frowned. Harry was a kindhearted lad, but he would get no thanks from Snape for his sympathy. He did not look like he would be talked out of it though. She led him to the classroom and breached the wards.  
  
"There you are, Harry. It reflects well on you that you want to help him, but don't expect him to be grateful."  
  
Harry smiled. "Yeah, I know what he's like. Thanks." McGonagall made to go upstairs.  
  
"Oh, Professor," he called, "Can I ask you something?"  
  
"Of course." She turned back to him expectantly.  
  
"Why does Professor Snape sleep in a cell? It's like he's in prison." He couldn't keep the indignation from his voice.  
  
Miinerva sighed and flushed. "Essentially, that is because he *is* a prisoner."   
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"To be a Death Eater was - and still is - a crime, Harry."  
  
"Yeah, but he -"  
  
"Joined Voldemort for a lifetime of service. That fact can never be forgotten. He will never be a free man."  
  
"But he's on our side!" Harry said hotly.  
  
Minerva sighed again. "Yes, of course he is, but until the laws are changed he is held as a prisoner, with Albus as his 'gaoler', if you like. That was the Ministry's condition for releasing him from Azkaban."  
  
Harry was surprised, to say the least. He could not express the depth of his frustration at the Wizarding world. They only ever gave him the bare minimum of information. Nothing was ever volunteered. If you did not ask questions, you did not find out anything of importance.  
  
Why did no one ever explain things until afterwards?   
  
He had repeatedly, throughout his magical life, endured events beyond his control, only getting explanations after he had almost gone mad trying to figure out things for himself. During his school years this had been particularly frustrating. Without the help of the well-read Hermione, he would never have been able to work out what was going on. He was tired of having to piece together the bits of the puzzle and draw his own, sometimes erroneous conclusions, only to have someone patiently and condescendingly explain it all to him afterwards - like he was some kind of idiot. Why didn't they just *tell* him?  
  
He was incredulous. Snape had been a virtual prisoner in the castle for twenty years! No wonder he was so sour. Dumbledore trusted him, but the Ministry did not. No wonder he resents me, he thought.  
  
"Does he still have to sleep in that horrible cell?"  
  
Minerva coloured slightly. In her cosy and comfortable rooms she had never spared a thought for how Severus lived. Of course she had never seen his sleeping arrangements. That would have been indelicate. In all the years he had never complained, and she had just not thought about it. Harry made her feel guilty.  
  
"Thank you for your concern, Harry. I'll talk to Albus and see if something can be done."  
  
Harry entered the Potions classroom and headed for the storage cupboard. There was no ready made potion in there for a hangover, hardly the sort of thing you would expect to find in a school room, after all. Students were not supposed to get hangovers. Harry knew how to make a very effective one, however, and had had lots of practice brewing it.  
  
The ingredients were readily available, and he set to work. In half an hour he had it cooling in the bottle. Then he hesitated.   
  
He would have to take it down to Snape's cell. He thought of giving it to someone else to deliver, but he could not think of anyone that Snape would not resent seeing his humble cell. Me most of all, he thought ruefully, but it did not seem fair to ask anyone else to do what he would not do himself.  
  
Hoping the man was still asleep, he crept down to the dungeons and unlocked the door. He cast a faint lumos spell just to make it bright enough that he could see where he was going.  
  
Luckily for both of them Snape was flat on his back, snoring softly. With great trepidation Harry crept to the small chest of drawers and left the bottle of potion. He hoped Snape would have to sense to recognise it for what it was when he woke up.   
  
Before he left the room, Harry looked around again. It really was an awful place to have to sleep. How would Snape know when it was morning? There was no clock and no natural light. Harry decided to stay the night at the castle and see Dumbledore in the morning. What McGonagall had told him at least explained why the Headmaster had been so worried about Snape disappearing.  
  
Harry slept in one of the comfortable and very accommodating guest rooms in the Gryffindor tower. As he settled into the comfortable four poster he couldn't help but think of Snape in the dungeons. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
The Headmaster was surprised to see Harry at breakfast in the Great hall on Sunday morning. Harry said good morning and requested an interview for later that morning. He wasn't sure how much the rest of the staff knew about Snape's status, so he did not want to discuss the matter in public. The man himself did not appear at the breakfast table.   
  
Harry was hungry after his late night - he had missed dinner - so he more than made up for it with a hearty breakfast. He was now a popular figure at Hogwarts, and sat at the Gryffindor table. He was still very slim and his auror training ensured that he expended a lot of magical energy. No matter how much he ate, he never put on any weight. Consequently he stuffed his face with pancakes and lashings of maple syrup and butter and felt no guilt whatsoever!!  
  
He just finished the last of his hot cocoa when the Headmaster caught his eye and headed for his office. The night's rest seemed to have done the old man good, he was as sprightly as ever.  
  
Once they were alone in Dumbledore's office, Harry felt embarrassed to bring up the subject of Professor Snape's predicament. He talked of inconsequential things until he felt the older man's heavy stare, and abruptly stopped talking.  
  
"I think I know why you are here, Harry. I can feel your anger. Please allow me to explain, as far as I am able."  
  
"Er, I'm not sure I know what you mean," Harry hedged. It really was not up to him to criticise the way Dumbledore ran the school, but keeping Snape a prisoner like that made his skin crawl. He made an effort not to broadcast his feelings as much.  
  
"You are.....concerned for Professor Snape's welfare. I understand how you feel. However, his living conditions were of his own choosing."  
  
Harry did not look convinced. "No one would choose to live down there."  
  
"Yet Severus did."  
  
"But why would he? This castle is enormous."  
  
"For him, the castle is still a cage. What would be the point in trying to make it look like anything else?"  
  
"Surely now Voldemort is gone, there's no need to keep him a prisoner -"  
  
"Severus is as much a prisoner of his own tortured soul, Harry. Material things mean little in comparison to that."  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"Guilt, Harry, is a terrible burden. I have forgiven him, but he cannot forgive himself."  
  
"What about the Ministry? Won't they give him a pardon or something?"  
  
"Severus would not agree to accept it, were it even to be granted."   
  
"But he was on our side, he helped us win. What did he do as a Death Eater that was so terrible?"  
  
The old wizard shifted uncomfortably. "That I cannot tell you. Many years ago Severus told me what being a Death Eater meant. The things that he had to do! Terrible, evil things. I cannot betray his confidence."  
  
"It just seems so wrong! No wonder he is so bitter."  
  
Dumbledore nodded.   
  
"I want to help him. What can I do?"  
  
"Try to be his friend, Harry. He has had so few of them."  
  
Harry thought it over. Would Snape accept him as a friend? It seemed very unlikely. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
Harry stayed on at Hogwarts for the rest of the day. At dinner time he sat at the main table between Professors Flitwick and McGonagall. Just before the meal was served Snape walked in. Harry snuck a glance at him. He looked much the same as usual. Harry watched him over Flitwick's head as the meal progressed.  
  
Snape did not eat much of the roast chicken. He did not even attempt to eat the pudding. Flitwick asked him for it and Harry met Snape's eye as he handed his bowl over to the dimunitive professor.   
  
"How are you feeling, Professor?" Harry asked in a polite tone.  
  
Snape's eyes narrowed and he scowled. He completely ignored the question.  
  
It was Harry's turn to scowl. He was incensed.  
  
"Perhaps you didn't hear me, Professor Snape," he said in a loud 'I-won't-be ignored' voice, "I inquired how you were feeling."  
  
Snape gave him a filthy look. "I didn't know you cared, Potter," he replied in a sarcastic drawl.  
  
"Just answer the question," Harry growled.  
  
"Quite well, thank you."   
  
The smug look on the man's face infuriated Harry. His rage boiled over.  
  
"What did you think of my potion?"   
  
He hadn't meant to say it. Snape could not hide his shock. If looks could kill, Harry would be one dead wizard.   
  
Harry watched Snape's expression closely. He saw anger, fear and perhaps a tinge of embarrassment. Snape obviously realised that Harry had seen his sleeping arrangements.  
  
Harry blinked in surprise as Snape stood up abruptly.  
  
"May I speak to you in private, Mr Potter?"  
  
Harry stood up. Snape inclined his head towards the door, spun on his heel and led the way out. Harry glanced over at Dumbledore and gave him the wizard equivalent of a thumbs up sign. Clearly Snape did not want to be seen thanking him in public.  
  
Once out in the gallery, Harry jumped in shock as Snape rounded on him, backing him into the wall and standing over him, wand in hand.  
  
"Don't you ever breathe a word about this to anyone, Potter, or I'll hex you till-" Snape's voice was scarcely above a whisper.  
  
"How dare you threaten me, you bloody ungrateful bastard," Harry said calmly, pushing the other man away. He refused to draw his wand. "I'm not one of your cowering students. You can't talk to me like that -"  
  
"Yes, the great Harry Potter, whom everyone must treat with the respect he craves," Snape said bitterly.  
  
"That's not what I meant and you know it. You always twist what I say to make it fit in with your idea of me." Harry looked him in the eye."Put your wand away and stop acting like a bloody great git."  
  
Snape looked murderous, but he put his wand back in his pocket. He turned and started to walk away.  
  
Harry's next question made him pause.  
  
"Why?"  
  
Snape knew what he was asking. Why stay in a cell? Why did he keep punishing himself? Why could he not accept any kind of help?  
  
Snape did not turn around. "You would never understand," he said after a long pause. "Thank you for the potion, Potter. It's a miracle I'm still alive."  
  
Harry watched the black clad figure disappear down a dark corridor. He smiled to himself. Maybe he had made some progress after all. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
On the following Monday morning Harry was late for his Magical Attacks lecture. He ran into the building and took a seat down the front, next to Ron, who rolled his eyes ostentatiously. Harry was always running somewhere. He noticed Ron frowning over his appearance yet again. Sometimes the young man acted just like Molly!   
  
Like most young wizards, Harry favoured muggle styles, but he was aware his particular style of clothing made Ron uncomfortable. Ron had once said that he could not understand why Harry would want to wear new jeans that were aged to make them look like hand-me-downs. In Ron's opinion, if a person had new jeans, then surely they would want them to look new? Harry's t-shirt was tight across his chest, prompting Ron to look at him disapprovingly and ask who the hell *were* 'the Ram Ones' anyway? The one thing that Harry knew Ron did approve of was the black leather jacket that had once belonged to Sirius Black.  
  
The class consisted of about twenty wizards of varying ages, presided over by one Dr Cyrus Underwood. He was a middle aged wizard who always wore red and gold robes and a gold turban that made Harry vaguely uneasy. Just as Harry unrolled his scroll and took up his quill the lecture began.   
  
Harry found all his lectures fascinating. At University people were much less in awe of him and he felt the freedom to be himself. Now that Voldemort was defeated, the weight of expectation that had hung over him had evaporated. He was happier than he had ever been. The other students were a friendly bunch and Harry enjoyed socialising, experimenting and doing all the normal student things.  
  
He focused his attention on Dr Underwood, who was announcing what the assessment topic for the term would be.   
  
"You may select a character from very recent history, or from one of the wars of the past. I want an investigation into the War Crimes of this individual. You can use whatever sources you can find, but I want a full list in the Bibliography. Pay particular attention to the forms of Magical Attack used by the witch or wizard in question."  
  
Almost straight away Harry thought of Severus Snape. This would be the perfect way to find out more about the man, complete with a legitimate excuse. Certainly Snape's experiences with the Death Eaters would count as War Crimes, judging from what Dumbledore had said - or rather - not said.  
  
Dr Underwood went on to stress that great care should be taken when dealing with former Death Eaters.  
  
"If you choose a character from the recent past, please be careful. Many evildoers escaped the vengeance of the Light by changing sides at the last moment. Some of them have the ear of great men and this makes them doubly dangerous.  
  
"Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. That's a given. " He strode up and down in front of the students, obviously warming to his topic.  
  
"Take the example of my brother's family. They were murdered for sport by Voldemort's cronies in the last war. The magical attack used was a petrifying spell, followed by a slow poison. It was given to the children first, so the parents could watch, powerless to do anything. The cruelty of it beggars description." He shook his head sadly. "The perpetrators of this atrocity were never apprehended. The cowards wore masks, as most of you would be aware," here he gave Harry and Ron a significant look. Everyone was aware of the part they had played in defeating Voldemort.  
  
"The assignment is due in six weeks time. See me after the lecture if you have any questions." He then proceeded to his lecture topic. Harry took copious notes, but running through the back of his mind were ways to approach Severus Snape.  
  
At lunch time in the Refectory Harry and Ron discussed their ideas for the assignment. Ron had decided to pick Lazarus Delgado, one of Grindelwald's most notorious lieutenants. Harry kept his subject to himself for now. He suspected Ron would think it was a bad idea.  
  
Dr Underwood came in and sat in a corner of the room with a large group of wizards not far from Harry and Ron. Harry half listened to their conversation. They were discussing agitating for a hard line against Dark Wizards. One of Harry's other lecturers went over and began arguing with them. The discussion became rather heated, and had Harry's full attention when a certain name was mentioned.  
  
"What about Severus Snape? He started out as a Death Eater when he was too young to know any better. He came over to our side years ago. Would you continue to punish him for the rest of his life for one mistake?"  
  
"But what a mistake! People died because of mistakes like that. Are you trying to tell me that those evil bastards were all just mistaken?"  
  
"I say death is too good for them. They should be made to suffer." This was said by a diminutive witch with a tall crooked hat. Harry recognised her as the publically vocal mother of one of the aurors who was killed early on in the war.  
  
"There's a lot of people at the Ministry who agree with them. Dad's worried that they're going to go after Snape", Ron commented in an undertone.  
  
"You're kidding!" said Harry, switching his attention back to Ron.  
  
"Nope, because what he did was so secret, not many people know the full story. Dad even went to see him the other day."  
  
"He went to see Snape?"  
  
"Yep. The Order want him to go public with his story, but he refused. Said he was more useful if he's still under suspicion. Mum said Dad was pretty upset when he came home."  
  
"Yeah, well, he is a hard man to talk to," Harry reasoned, referring to Snape. "I was actually thinking of doing my assignment on him," he admitted.  
  
Ron surprised him. "That's a brilliant idea! Not that you'd get any help from him."  
  
"I was thinking of asking for Professor Dumbledore's help. If he 'd agree to it, Snape wouldn't be able to argue with him."  
  
"Cunning. I like it. Once you get him alone, you can hit him with your Occlumency!"  
  
"Ron!" Harry was shocked, but at the same time excited at the prospect of reading Snape's unguarded thoughts.  
  
"I don't like the guy, you know that, but I do trust him." Ron smiled.  
  
All week long Harry had a nervous stomach ache. He flooed to Hogwarts on Saturday morning to see the Headmaster. He told him of his concerns and how it was in Snape's best interests to have his story told, especially in light of Cyrus Underwood's opinions. Dumbledore suggested Harry visit Knockturn Alley again.   
  
"Severus has gone to purchase some rare ingredients this morning. You might run into him by chance in one of the Apothecary's there," the old man said with a twinkle in his eye. "Thank you for the warning, Harry. I'll have a word with him when he returns to Hogwarts."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Harry said. Dumbledore sent him off through the floo in his office.  
  
Once there, Harry strolled down the alley, peering through the dimly lit shop windows. He was examining a strange purple potted plant that seemed to be humming when he felt someone stop behind him. He turned around.  
  
It was Lucius Malfoy. He had changed sides at the last moment and saved his son and some others from the wrath of the insane Dark Lord, losing an arm in the process. The man still looked imposing and the metallic prosthesis he wore gave him a sinister appearance.  
  
"Good morning Mr Potter," he bowed his head.  
  
"Mr Malfoy," Harry smiled. "How is Draco?"   
  
"As well as can be expected, thank you. Are you here shopping? Can I help you find anything?"  
  
"I'm looking for Professor Snape, actually. Have you seen him?"  
  
"Yes I have, as it happens. He was in Flourish & Blotts not ten minutes ago."  
  
"Thanks," Harry waved as he rattled off in the direction of Diagon Alley. Malfoy senior still made him uncomfortable. The man was almost deferential to him now. Harry suspected that if he decided to become the new Dark Lord, Malfoy would follow him. Harry was the most powerful wizard of his generation, and that power attracted all kinds of admiration.  
  
Coming around a corner he caught sight of a tall figure with shoulder length black hair. He chased off after the person, whose head bobbed in and out of view in the crowd. He pushed through and followed his quarry into a most surprising destination.  
  
Harry felt self-conscious as he stepped into the decadent atmosphere of Witchmaid Corsets. His eyes darted around the shop and finally came to rest on a tall figure stroking a red silk creation that would look decidedly kinky on the very male body of Severus Snape! Harry was about to say something when *she* turned around and nearly collided with him. Harry felt his cheeks burn and he muttered "Sorry" and fled.   
  
Once outside he rushed off, not even noticing where he was going. He felt like such a fool. She had looked nothing like Professor Snape, once he saw her up close. He wondered why he was so fixated on the man lately - he seemed to spend all his time looking for the elusive wizard. His mind seized on the imagined sight of Severus Snape in a red corset and black stockings. Harry gulped, there was something so sexy about black stockings on long legs and those white bits of thigh flesh that led the eye to ... he swallowed, shocked at his errant thoughts. Calming himself, he set off towards Flourish and Blotts.  
  
He prowled around between the shelves, scrutinising every tall, dark haired figure, but there was no sign of Severus Snape. He did find a few interesting books, however, and after purchasing them decided a nice cup of coffee was just what he needed.  
  
He sat outside at one of his favourite haunts and met up with some fellow students. They discussed his books and compared their recent purchases. Harry was distracted from the conversation by the urge to watch all the passers-by, hoping to spot the Hogwarts Professor. He mentally rehearsed what he would say if he did see him.   
  
After a relaxing half hour he headed off towards a renowned Herbalist's shop. He tried to browse around unobtrusively, wanting Snape to walk in. The proprietor - a short, determined little Fenland wizard in a garish tapestry vest and bow tie - accosted him with a tray of his mead, which he insisted Harry taste. He went on to describe in great detail the list of ingredients, describing their magical properties and interactions. At first Harry found this quite interesting, but after about twenty minutes he began to think of escaping.   
  
The man would not be discouraged, however, and continued talking at length and bringing out more elixirs and tonics for Harry to taste. He went on and on about his family tree, his famous ancestors and the story of his life so far. Harry began to sweat with the need to get away. He tongue felt dry and he could not seem to say a word. After another twenty minutes he felt quite panicky, and finally managed to edge his way to the counter after agreeing to buy several expensive herbs that he didn't need.  
  
He thanked the man and rushed out of the shop without his change, waving desperately at the gesticulating man to keep it. He shook his head to clear it and was shocked to perceive that he had been under the influence of a spell. He had a good mind to report the boring little git, while at the same time being rather impressed that the magic had got through his defences!  
  
Disgusted with his lack of Snape sightings he ended up at Kings Cross Station, dashing on to Platform nine and three quarters just in time for the afternoon all-stations train to Hogwarts. Loaded with bags he walked the length of the train looking for an empty compartment. The very last one was vacant and he threw open the door, piled his bags on the seat and flopped down.   
  
Harry shut his eyes and thought of Severus Snape. "Why am I so fascinated by him?" he wondered.   
  
He heard the compartment door slide open and swore to himself, hoping it was not another boring old git who would want to talk to him. He just wanted to sit there with his eyes closed and relax.   
  
Finally, curiosity got the better of him and he opened his eyes slowly.  
  
He jumped when he saw who it was.  
  
Severus Snape sat opposite him.  
  
He looked slightly more friendly than usual. Which was to say, rather unfriendly, but not openly hostile.  
  
"Potter", the man said by way of greeting.  
  
Harry took a breath. "Good afternoon Professor Snape. How are you?"  
  
Snape looked like he wanted nothing more than to say something really rude, but thought better of it. He cleared his throat and said, "Quite well, thank you." He folded his arms and glanced out the window as the train accelerated, then looked back pointedly at Harry and his bags.   
  
Harry immediately felt embarrassed. He pulled his wand out slowly and shrunk the packages, putting them all into one small bag. He risked another look at Snape and the man raised his brow. Harry took that as an invitation and smiled. Snape scowled at him and they both looked out the window.   
  
They sat in silence until the train lurched to a stop at Potters Bar. The Professor appeared to be smirking when Harry looked at him.  
  
"What?" Harry said.  
  
Snape's lips twitched and he coughed and asked Harry if he was travelling all the way to Hogwarts.  
  
"Yes I am. I wanted to see you actually..."  
  
"Really, how unusual." Snape looked surprised. Harry guessed because it was such an unprecedented occurrence. Snape wore an expectant expression.  
  
"I have an assignment that I'd like some advice on."  
  
Snape frowned. "I was not aware that you were studying any Potions subjects?"  
  
"Well, it's not about Potions. Magical Attacks, actually. I was hoping you could tell me about some of the spells used by the Death Eaters." Harry felt his face colouring as he said the last two words. Snape turned his head away and looked out the window again.  
  
"You're not working for the Daily Prophet or The Quibbler are you?" he asked Harry without looking at him.  
  
Harry was outraged. "How could I ever work for the Prophet after all the mud they've slung at me over the years?"  
  
Snape actually smiled, "Point taken. However you were rather friendly with the Lovegood girl at one stage, were you not?"  
  
Harry took a moment to be surprised that the man had noticed whom he had been friendly with while at school. "A lot of people still believe that you only turned to save your own skin."  
  
"It is immaterial to me what other people believe. The important p...the Order know the truth."  
  
"But if you would tell me the full story I could use it to defend you. I've heard rumours and whispers about witch hunts and scapegoats. Some people feel very strongly about former Death Eaters."  
  
Snape sighed. "So, Potter, you wish to study my evil methods in order to save me from the wrath of fools? I suppose you think there's a High Distinction in it for you," he said bitterly, "Choosing such a controversial topic for your assignment?" Snape was glaring at him now with narrowed eyes.  
  
Harry got angry. "Look, I don't give a rat's arse about the damned assignment. I can find someone else to do it on. I'm just trying to warn you to tread carefully!" Harry was quite surprised to find himself admitting that he cared what happened to Snape.  
  
The Professor tried to cover his own astonishment at Harry's vehement protestation. "What makes you think they're out to get me?" Harry watched as he traced his lips with his long, elegant finger. It reminded him of a day in Snape's office years earlier, when the Professor had been explaining Occlumency to him. If only he had listened to what he was being told.   
  
"I've heard things at Uni. Ron tells me stuff as well." Harry looked deeply into Snape's dark eyes. Without conscious thought he reached out with his mind, searching for answers. He was a lot more powerful now than he had been as a school student. He sensed a cold, emotionless barrier, but pushed through it to sense feelings of dread, awe and overwhelming fear.  
  
Harry abruptly realised what he was doing, and with a sense of horror hurled Snape's thoughts away. He rubbed at his temples and opened his eyes to see the Professor on all fours on the floor in front of him, breathing heavily with his head in his hands.  
  
Harry shook his head and bent down to help Snape up.  
  
"Oh god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Are you all right?"  
  
Harry felt a tingle of excitement in his hands as he took hold of Snape's biceps and placed him back on the leather seat. Harry could feel Snape's warm breath on his face.  
  
The Professor rubbed his eyes. "Well Potter," he said shakily, "I see you finally decided to take my advice and practice. If only you had done so years ago!"  
  
The words stung and Harry sat back as if slapped. Snape might just have well have said "It's your fault Sirius Black died."   
  
Harry did not try to keep the hurt from his voice as he asked, "Why are you so scared of me?"  
  
Snape was taken aback, and guilt made him speak honestly.   
  
"Because you seek the truth." 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
One week later Harry and Ron received an owl to their shared rooms at Merlin College. There was to be an Order of the Phoenix meeting at 12 Grimmauld Place that Saturday evening. Harry was eagerly anticipating seeing Professor Snape again. The Professor had reluctantly agreed to help Harry - albeit anonymously - with his assignment, after being 'talked into it' by the Headmaster. After Harry's inadvertant incursion into his mind during the train trip, Snape had been very wary of him. Harry had asked lots of questions during his stay at Hogwarts last weekend, but Snape had only discussed Dark Magic with him in an abstract way. Still, Harry had the bones of his Magical Attacks assignment worked out and all that was required was some fleshing out.  
  
When Saturday finally came the day could not pass quickly enough for Harry. By late afternoon he found himself standing in front of a mirror considering what to wear. Since he had to travel through Muggle London, he had to blend in. He pulled on a faded pair of jeans, but took them off when he decided they looked too scruffy. He tried on a few different ensembles and posed in front of the mirror, laughing at its cheeky comments. In the end he opted for a pair of baggy khaki cargoes teamed with a short black t-shirt. He gelled his bangs so they hung down over his cheekbones, pulling the rest of his abundant hair back in dreadlocks and tucking it into a Lenin style cap. He smiled at his reflection. "Definitely shaggable!" he pronounced. The mirror agreed. He wanted to wear eyeliner, but was not quite brave enough for that. Ron's brothers already teased him for being too pretty.  
  
Ron had been studying in the library with Hermione, who was doing an Arithmancy course. They both burst into the room to find Harry admiring himself in the mirror.  
  
As usual Ron rolled his eyes and shook his head, "I don't know what you're thinking, Harry, old mate. Surely there's no one at Grimmauld Place who's worth all that effort. Who's pants are you trying to get into now?"  
  
Harry laughed. "Wouldn't you like to know?"  
  
Hermionie looked shocked. "God, Harry, most of them are old enough to be your...um, yeah, they're all too old for you."  
  
"Ron's brothers aren't much older than us," Harry argued.  
  
"I've told you before, Harry. My brothers are off limits. And they're not gay either," Ron was laughing, but Harry knew that Ron would find it just too weird. Luckily for Ron, Harry was just not attracted to redheads in *that* way.   
  
"Come on, let's go and have a drink," Harry said, leading them out the door as he donned a faux sheepskin jacket. They went to the local muggle pub and had a couple of pints and a quick bite to eat before making their way to 12 Grimmauld Place and the Order meeting.  
  
By 10.30pm the official meeting had finished and Severus Snape had not yet made his appearance. The members who were present had adjourned to the kitchen where Molly and Arthur were serving drinks and snacks. Harry followed Arthur into the pantry and asked why Snape had not been at the meeting.  
  
"He contacted me earlier and said he'd be a bit late, Harry. He's been doing some work for the Order, visiting some of the Death Eaters that went into hiding and seeing where their loyalties lie."  
  
"That sounds dangerous," Harry commented.  
  
"Mmmm. The thing is, a lot of them still trust him. His bad reputation actually works in our favour, because while there's mistrust on our side, the Death Eaters think he's one of their own."  
  
Harry frowned. "I suppose so, but it seems dead risky for him." Harry followed Arthur around the table as he replenished the biscuits.  
  
Just then there was a commotion and Snape entered the room. He apologised for his tardiness and Arthur asked him for his report. In lieu of Dumbledore, who was away with Hagrid on another embassy to the Giants, Arthur Weasley presided over the meeting.  
  
Snape stood with his hands on the back of a chair. He started to speak, but faltered when Harry moved to the table to sit down. Harry felt his cheeks go pink and stuffed a biscuit into his mouth just for something to do with his hands. He could feel Snape's eyes on him. Harry felt the stirrings of a sexual awareness of the Professor that had gradually been building within him.  
  
Snape then cleared his throat, looking pointedly at Remus Lupin, who was whispering in Tonks' ear. When the room was finally silent, he began.   
  
"I have been to see Mauricia Avery tonight. She has invited me to participate in the celebration of Walpurgis Night on the first of May. As some of you are aware, this was always a major event in the Death Eater calendar. As usual it is to be held in Germany, on the mount at Brocken. All of the remaining Death Eaters will attend.  
  
"This is a great step forward for me, as I will be able to make contact with supporters on the Continent. It will only work if I can maintain my delicate position with the Ministry. As long as they continue to suspect me, and publicly accuse me - without any actual evidence - my usefulness to the Order will endure."  
  
The Professor made to sit down, but Tonks asked the question that most people were too embarrassed to admit ignorance over.  
  
"What exactly *is* this Walpurgis night?"  
  
Severus Snape sighed. "It is a traditional Germanic festival." He looked reluctant to say more.  
  
Hermione stood up. "If I might be permitted to speak?" Arthur nodded and gestured for her to continue.  
  
"Walpurgis Night is celebrated annually on the First of May in most magical regions of Germany, Austria and Switzerland," Hermione began in her best lecturing voice.  
  
"According to tradition, witches and wizards gather at midnight on the Mount at Brocken. Potions are injested and the consequent delirium leads to acts of depravity, bestiality and participation in obscene rites." Harry saw that Hermione was about to continue when she looked at Professor Snape, who was staring at her with such a frozen espression on his face that she sat down abruptly.   
  
"Well, thank you Hermione," Arthur said heartily, "Anyone for cocoa?" Molly rushed around with mugs and everyone pretended to be very interested in the chocolate beverage.  
  
Harry felt for Snape. He sat with his head down, carefully sipping the hot cocoa that Molly had thrust at him.  
  
  
  
Several of the others were laughing and muttering comments that were audible to Harry. Sturgis Podmore muttered "Didn't know old Severus had it in him," and someone else laughed and said "Bet I know what he'd like in 'im," waving his broomstick and motioning in a lewd fashion. Unexpectedly Snape looked up and met Harry's eyes. Harry knew that he alone recognised the mortification in the depths of those dark eyes.  
  
Harry got up and went to sit in the vacant chair next to the Professor. He stared at Snape's face till the man looked sideways at him.  
  
"Can I talk to you? Would you come up to the Drawing Room?" Harry said in a whisper.  
  
Snape's face betrayed his hesitation. Harry could tell he really wanted to get out of that room. He seemed to come to a decision, standing up so abruptly that his chair rocked back on its legs, wobbling loudly in the silence.  
  
Harry walked behind him up the stairs, noticing that Snape wore trousers under a long, black robe. Snape went to stand at the mantlepiece where a cheering fire roared to life.  
  
"How do you do it?" Harry asked, flopping onto a chair in front of the fire.  
  
Snape sighed. "I do what I must." He looked tired and defeated.  
  
"But surely after all this time..."  
  
"Don't presume to-"  
  
"Will you stop treating me like a child? I killed him so this kind of thing would stop!"  
  
Snape snorted. "Well, I'm sorry to tell you that Voldemort did not have the monopoly on evil. It's still out there. It's still the biggest threat to our survival."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Greed. Power. Glory. A wizard may be seduced by these things. You know it as well as I do. I saw what you felt when you destroyed him. It nearly took you as well."  
  
Harry picked at the fraying material of the chair. He hadn't realised anyone had recognised the temptation he had felt to immerse himself in the raw power he had experienced. He felt humbled and ashamed of himself. He looked up to see Snape kneeling before him. The sincere admiration in Snape's eyes made him lower his head. He was not worthy of it. A cold hand reached up to lift his chin until they were eye to eye.  
  
"You did a great thing that day. I did not mean to belittle it. You have such a capacity for goodness...it even gives hope to those of us who have no right to expect anything."   
  
Harry felt his eyes watering. He wanted to hug Snape for his eloquence, for baring his soul, but the other man stood up quickly and left the room. No man had any right to sound so desolate. He heard the outside door slam a few seconds later. Harry ached at the thought of Snape returning alone to his cold, lonely dungeon. 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
  
Harry awoke groggily to the feeling of being jabbed in the ribs with a sharp object.   
  
"Urrrrgh. Gerroff!" He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.  
  
"Harry, for Merlin's sake, *wake up*. Have you forgotten what day it is?"  
  
"Pisssoff Ron," Harry said , dragging his pillow over his head and trying to block out the light. He felt the bedding being dragged off him and curled into a foetal position. Ron opened more curtains and the room was flooded with brilliant sunlight.   
  
Harry's head pounded. He had vague memories of staggering home in the wee small hours after a very late night spent in the pubs of Soho with some of his muggle friends.   
  
Having spent so little time with any decent muggles during his early life, after he left school Harry had made a conscious effort to get to know some non-magical people his own age. As he was good at ball sports and had showed some promise in junior school, he joined the local cricket team. He had soon developed a reputation as a handy bowler and fielder. Some of the guys in the team shared his musical taste and they enjoyed going out as a group, drinking and watching rock bands.  
  
Being with muggles allowed him a freedom that the wizarding world did not. It was great to be able to go out and not be singled out because of his history. Harry was also mindful of wizardly arrogance and the damage it could do.  
  
Ron tugged at the pillow until Harry let it go with a moan.   
  
"You're evil, Ron," Harry whined. " It's Saturday, bugger off and let me sleep in."  
  
"I knew you'd forget. Hermione said it'd be okay, but I *knew* it...what the hell have you done to your hair *this* time?"  
  
Harry sat up and scratched his head. Ron often said that Harry changed his hairstyle as often as his clothes. It wasn't quite true, but Harry did enjoy changing his look from time to time. Last night he had gone to see some new bands, and he had worn his hair short, black and spiky. In a stripe down the middle of head. The sides were shaved. His friends had all loved stroking the sides of his head, saying that it felt as soft as a peach.  
  
Ron picked up some clothes off the floor. "Get dressed. Quickly. We have to floo to Hogwarts."  
  
"Oh fuck!" Harry exclaimed, jumping out of bed and immediately regretting it. "It's the Quidditch game today. Fuck! I completely forgot." Harry stumbled into the bathroom, went to the loo and looked in the mirror at his bleary eyed reflection.   
  
"Very attractive!" commented the mirror sarcastically.  
  
"Shut up, Algernon. I'm not in the mood," Harry said as he washed his face. He gulped handfuls of water, sticking his mouth under the tap when that method proved too slow. His throat felt like the inside of an empty cement mixer. He felt his stomach lurch and slowed down on the water.  
  
When he emerged from the bathroom, Ron thrust a handful of clothes at him. "Hurry, Harry. Get dressed. The game starts in 5 minutes. Fred and George will kill me if you're not there."  
  
"Where have *you* been anyway? Why didn't you wake me up earlier?" Harry was keen to share the blame around.   
  
Ron coloured and Harry knew the answer. His friend had been in Hermione's room again. Usually he came back in the early hours of the morning, but sometimes he presumably just fell asleep there. Harry immediately felt bad and smiled at his friend in apology. Ron was not his keeper, after all.  
  
Harry clutched at his head, which felt ready to fall off. He felt nauseous at the mere thought of flying. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He was still drunk from the previous night. The thought that Professor Snape would probably be there was the only thing that made him want to go.   
  
He felt Ron's silent disapproval as he turned away to strip off his boxers and pull on a clean pair of underpants. He knew his friend did not like the snake tattoo on the top of his left buttock. It wasn't that Ron didn't like tattoos, just the fact that the motif was so un-Gryffindor.  
  
Harry had some cricket whites and got them out and put them on instead of the stuff Ron had given him. At least in white he'd *look* more like a quidditch player. He had barely straightened up from tying his shoes when Ron thrust him into the fireplace. By the time Harry had said "Hogwarts" he found himself emerging coughing and spluttering into a tent fitted with a temporary floo point located on the side of the Quidditch pitch.  
  
Fred and George were pacing frantically nearby. They ran up to Harry and Ron and George held out an evilly smoking beaker of yellow goop. He thrust it at Harry while Fred threw a white quidditch robe over Harry's clothes.  
  
"Hangover cure. Bottoms up!" George boomed heartily, slapping Harry on the back.  
  
Harry was about to take the beaker when Madame Hooch marched between them, collecting the beaker on her way past. "I'll take that, thank you very much!" she said in her no nonsense fashion. "There'll be no potions before the game, boys."  
  
Harry winced as a siren sounded. Ron shoved his broom into his hand, and gave him a push towards the centre of the field where the teams were assembling.   
  
Harry's mind was fuzzy . His stomach was doing flip-flops and his head was spinning. Walking along staring at the grass was making him dizzy. He looked up and everything suddenly snapped into focus. The seven teachers waiting on the field all wore black. Snape was one of them. The Professor did a double take when he turned to see Harry.   
  
People were greeting him, but Harry could only stare at Snape. He looked tall and powerful in the quidditch costume. Black was *definitely* Snape's colour.  
  
The commentator announced the imminent start of the inaugural Ex-Students v. Teachers Quidditch match and began to introduce all the players. Professor Snape came to stand beside Harry, who was feeling so tired he was tempted to lean on the taller man.  
  
"What exactly do you mean by turning up with that outrageous hairstyle? If you were still a student I'd take 50 points from Gryffindor." Snape said loudly, with a rather nasty smirk on his face. Harry imagined the man was attempting to sledge him, a common practice used by sportsmen to demoralise an opponent. Harry was rather hurt, as he considered that of late they had come to something of an understanding.  
  
Harry was still trying to formulate a witty rejoinder when Snape stepped closer. "Are you all right, Potter?" he whispered. Harry sighed as he felt the warm breath on his ear.  
  
"Yeah, well, I'm a bit under the weather, but I think I'll be all right, thanks," Harry answered, also whispering. He realised he had to play along with Snape's public image.  
  
At the call they mounted their brooms and the game commenced. Harry flew as high as he dared and stopped to survey the action. He was surprised to see that Snape was playing as the Seeker for the Teachers. After he found that remaining stationary made him even more dizzy, he took to circling the field slowly in an anti-clockwise direction. Snape followed Harry, shadowing his moves.  
  
After ten minutes the game was drawn at 60 points each and Harry had not yet seen the snitch. Neither had Snape, he presumed. Harry was unbearably thirsty and dying for the whole thing to be over with so he could lie down in a dark room for the rest of the weekend. He looked around and Snape was at his left shoulder. Harry flew in zig zags and Snape did likewise. Harry just managed to dodge a bludger and zoomed higher again, taking Snape with him.  
  
Harry and Snape both saw the snitch at the same moment. It was glinting in the sunlight above and to the right of them. Harry executed a whirlwind bank and sped upwards, all thought of his nausea temporarily forgotten in the thrill of the chase. Snape stayed right with him, so they arrived at about the same time. They both reached for the snitch at the same moment, but Harry felt his stomach lurch and he overbalanced, overcompensated and lost his grip. He fell. Snape almost had the snitch, but he suddenly changed direction and dived after Harry.  
  
Harry was plummeting earthwards fast, looking forward to several broken bones and a stay in the infirmary. His breath was knocked from him when he was caught hard between Snape's outstretched arms and his broomstick. He became aware of a roaring sound, getting louder as they wobbled with ever decreasing speed towards the ground.  
  
When they bumped softly to the grass Harry pushed Snape away in a panic and ran for cover. He ducked under the canvas stands and vomited until he felt dizzy. It was warm under there and he broke out in a sweat.  
  
He jumped when he felt a comforting hand begin to rub his back in soothing circles. He had not heard anyone approaching.  
  
He took a deep breath. "Thank you, Professor Snape," he croaked over the dry lump in his throat.  
  
"Oi, watch it, Harry!"  
  
Harry turned, surprised to see Ron frowning ruefully at him.   
  
"What happened up there? Everyone's saying Snape knocked you off."   
  
"What? I fell off 'cos I lost my balance. I'm still shitfaced from last night." Harry smiled weakly. Knowing Ron, he had probably been admiring the female ex-students well developed figures at the time of the incident, rather than watching Harry.   
  
Harry paused to recall what actually had happened. It had all been so fast and he had been busy feeling ill. Snape had broken his fall with his own body. Harry tried to recapture the feeling of being held in those strong arms. For a few short moments he had been trapped against that warm, lean body.  
  
Harry felt weak but better and re-emerged to find the crowd in an uproar and no sign of Professor Snape. The players were all down on the ground, arguing furiously with the referee and each other.  
  
Madame Hooch was especially furious. She was screaming defiantly at the referee and as Harry approached she threw down her broom.  
  
"Right, if that's what you think then we'll have to forfeit. We don't have another seeker." She marched off the field, the other teachers trailing behind her. The announcer awarded the game to the ex-students team.  
  
Harry was crackling with rage. He was about to give the referee a piece of his mind when Fred and George caught his arms and turned him around.   
  
"Forget it, Harry. Professor Snape gave us a message for you." They walked him away from earshot of the people who were on the pitch.  
  
"What is it then?" Harry asked impatiently.  
  
"He said to tell you people always jump to the wrong conclusions where he is concerned, and that at the moment it suits his purpose," Fred said quietly. George continued, "He also said don't bother trying to tell the truth because people will believe what they want to believe."  
  
Harry nodded slowly, trying to calm down. He knew Snape wanted to maintain his cover. It amazed him that events could be so misinterpreted, solely due to the preconceptions of the wizarding world.   
  
"Where did he go?" he asked the twins.  
  
"You should have seen it." " He was sent off for reckless bludgering of an opponent." " He was livid inside, but trying to hide it." " Merlin, it was funny." Fred and George said, speaking in turn.  
  
Harry shook his head. It was all very well for them to laugh, but he knew what it felt like to have everyone think the worst of you. It was the loneliest feeling in the world, and Harry did not wish that on anyone.  
  
He wondered if Snape had gone back to his room. Surely he would have had to take a shower first? He had a vague recollection of getting a whiff of sweaty male as he was crushed against Snape's chest. Harry could not envision Snape taking a shower in the communal changing rooms. How he wished he could!  
  
He raced up to the castle.  
  
Once inside, he made his way to the dungeons. Miraculously - considering the way the castle rearranged itself - he eventually found himself at Snape's cell door.  
  
Knowing not what possessed him, he turned the key. The door opened silently and he walked in. It was just as he remembered it, except possibly a bit tidier. The bed was neatly made, covered with what looked like a new bedspread.   
  
There was a flaming torch in a bracket on the wall.   
  
Harry stood in the centre of the room, his heart thumping so strongly that he could feel the pulsebeat all the way to his fingertips. He went cold as he heard the rapidly approaching footsteps ringing against the stone floor. He turned to face Snape as he swept into the cell.  
  
"Potter, what the devil are you - "  
  
Harry saw spots before his eyes as he felt himself caught by Snape a second time that day. Then the darkness took him. 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
  
Harry awoke to find himself flat on his back on Professor Snape's bed. The Professor himself sat on the edge of the bed, near Harry's feet. Harry sat up carefully, his head throbbing painfully. Snape looked worried.  
  
"Did anybody see you come in here?" He leaned over Harry and reached toward the cabinet near the bed.  
  
Harry scooted back till he was sitting up. "I don't think so," he replied with a grimace.   
  
"You must take care not to be seen with me. You should not associate with me in any way. It's dangerous. They're watching me," Snape took up a vial and uncorked it. "Here, take this, it will help."  
  
Harry was still feeling rather groggy. He wondered who it was dangerous for, himself or Snape? "What is it?" he asked.  
  
"A most efficacious hangover cure," Snape said with a rueful smirk. "You made it."  
  
Harry smiled and swallowed a mouthful. He felt better almost instantly. He rubbed at his head and was surprised to feel long hair growing there again.  
  
"Hey, my hair's back. That's weird." Harry looked at Snape questioningly, and the Professor stood up.   
  
"You'd best be getting back to your friends before you are missed." Snape gestured towards the door.  
  
Harry felt reluctant to leave. He rarely got the opportunity to be alone with Snape. The Professor folded his arms and leaned against the door.   
  
The black Quidditch robes really suited him, Harry thought. They were not as thick and concealing as the Professor's usual attire. Harry stared at the powerful thighs encased in tight black trousers. Snape did not wear leg pads, opting instead for knee high leather boots, and he had taken off the black leather gauntlets he had worn during the game. Harry decided he liked the look of Professor Snape in his Quidditch outfit.  
  
Snape cleared his throat, motioning abruptly towards the door with his head. Harry stood up.  
  
"Well, thanks." Harry didn't quite know what to do. Snape had saved him from a nasty fall. Should he shake his hand? "I know you took a risk, catching me like that."  
  
Snape nodded. "How is your assignment progressing?" Surprisingly, even he seemed to be reluctant to let Harry go when it came down to it.  
  
"Great. I'm nearly finished. I just hope that Dr Underwood will accept that the 'subject' wants to remain anonymous." Harry smiled, "What about _your_ assignment?"  
  
Snape quirked an eyebrow at him.  
  
"You know, your work for the Order."  
  
"The less said about that, the better."  
  
"I'm just worried that you're taking risks. Playing both the Ministry and the Death Eaters is a dangerous business. Either one of them could get suspicious."  
  
Snape snorted. "Too late for worrying about that. Neither of them are sure of my allegiances, and that impression is quite deliberate, I assure you. I am ...grateful for your concern. It's rather novel."  
  
Harry put out his hand and Snape took it. They shook hands firmly, but when Snape tried to let go, Harry held on. He turned the warm, dry hand over, pulled it closer and pressed a moist kiss into the palm.   
  
Harry heard Snape's shocked intake of breath. Harry did not dare look up as he turned and hurried out the door. It closed behind him and he leaned back against it, sagging in disbelief. What the hell did he just do? He ran for the stairs like a frightened rabbit.  
  
Oh God, he thought, what would Snape think? Harry felt like such an idiot. His hands were shaking and his cheeks were still burning when he arrived at the Great Hall.  
  
Everyone else was gathered there for the post-game feast. He caught the eye of Ron who was seated at the Gryffindor table and went over to sit with him.  
  
"All right now, Harry?" Ron asked as Harry climbed onto the bench. He did a double take at the reappearance of Harry's hair, but said nothing.   
  
Harry nodded. "Took a hangover cure. God, now I'm starving." Harry ate with gusto, as he had not had much for dinner the previous night. The noise level in the room was high, as most people were still arguing over the Quidditch result.   
  
Harry let the debate wash over him, half-listening but not taking part. It was strange how _no one even asked him_ for his version of events. Most of the Gryffindors, past and present, were of the opinion that Snape had knocked him off his broom to stop him from catching the Snitch and therefore winning the game.  
  
Ron also kept silent. He too was aware of Snape's delicate position. He nudged Harry and grimly drew his attention to the Slytherin table, which was the origin of some rather cold stares aimed in their direction.  
  
Harry jumped as he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He turned to greet the smiling Headmaster.  
  
"I see you're feeling better, Harry," Dumbledore said. "I was hoping you would agree to present the awards at our upcoming Demonstration night. It is to be held on the Ides of April."  
  
Harry smiled, agreeing immediately because he knew Snape would have to be there. "Thank you, Headmaster, " he accepted formally. "What should I wear?"  
  
"Dress robes, Harry. There will be a Reception afterwards. The parents like to see Hogwart's most famous ex-student." Ron looked slightly miffed and the Headmaster realised his omission and politely extended the invitation to him as well.  
  
Harry kept smiling, but felt rather embarrassed. Having gone through most of his childhood without any praise, he was uncomfortable with how gratified such accolades sometimes made him feel. Deep down he knew he was strong enough not to need the approval of his peers. On the other hand, it was nice to know you were appreciated. That thought took him back to Professor Snape, who was unanimously despised by the 'decent folk' of the Wizarding world. How did he cope with it all? Three quarters of the students hated him, and presumably their parents did too. The Slytherins respected him and even admired him, perhaps, but Harry wondered if any of them genuinely liked their head of house.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

So it came to be that a few weeks later Harry was once again in front of his mirror. He wanted to make a good impression, but most Dress Robes were ridiculously ornate and overdone. He had looked in the shops of Diagon Alley and eventually given up in disgust. Madame Malkin and her assistants seemed to have no idea of what it was that he wanted. Harry turned instead to muggle shops, and managed at last to find something that he wouldn't feel stupid wearing in public.  
  
He smoothed it down his thighs. A fashion designer known as Mr Fish had made a couple of dresses for David Bowie in the early 1970s and Harry had found a copy of one of them. It was peach satin velvet with a blue floral pattern. As Harry turned in front of the mirror the skirt swirled out around him. It was mid calf length and he wore brown leather boots underneath. The bodice was tight and fastened with brocade frogging. It was slashed open to the waist, exposing his slender, lightly muscled chest. The long sleeves were flared slightly and balanced the skirt perfectly. To complete the look Harry wore his hair long and tousled.   
  
Ron came out of the bathroom draped in a hideous maroon tent trimmed with white lace. "Merlin, these things are a bitch to take a leak in!" He walked up to Harry and stood there in appreciation. "Wow, Harry. That looks great! How come you always look good and I always look like this?"  
  
Harry laughed at Ron's woebegone expression. He took up his wand and adjusted his friend's robes until they didn't look too awful. Ron stood next to him and surveyed them both in the mirror. "Are you trying to get laid tonight?" he asked Harry's reflection. Harry's reflection flushed.  
  
"Shut up, Ron. There's only going to be school kids and parents there."  
  
"And teachers," Ron added with a leer.  
  
Harry chose to ignore that comment. Since when was Ron so perceptive? He marched over to the door, stuffing his wand into a concealed pocket in his skirt.  
  
An hour later Harry was seated on the stage, trying to pay attention to the second year pupil who was demonstrating the transfiguration of a mouse to a thimble in seven easy steps. Harry scanned the hall for Professor Snape, finally spotting him lurking in the shadows down the back. When the demonstations were finally over and Harry had presented the prizes to several awestruck students he joined Ron in the crowd near the buffet.   
  
Their lecturer, Dr Underwood, wearing his ubiquitous turban, spotted them and approached with his wife and daughters. Harry was friendly to them all, but tried at the same time to keep an eye on Professor Snape.   
  
Harry was listening with one ear to Dr Underwood's daughter rambling on about life at Hogwarts, while with the other he was trying to hear what Dr Underwood was saying to Ron.  
  
"...a word to your father. There are a lot of us who think it is just outrageous! Look at them over there! As blatant as you like. Something must be done, and soon..."  
  
"What was your favourite subject at school, Harry?" Flavia Underwood asked. Harry was looking at Snape, who stood talking to some Slytherin parents. They were leaning close, whispering.  
  
"Potions," he answered without thinking.  
  
The girl gave him an incredulous look. Harry excused himself and sought out the Headmaster. He was seated at the side of the room with Professor McGonagall.  
  
She smiled as he approached them. "You're looking very fetching tonight, Harry."  
  
"Thanks. I can't believe how small the first years look! Was I ever that little?"   
  
Dumbledore chuckled. "Indeed you were, Harry." The old man followed his erstwhile gaze across the room. Harry looked back at the old man with a guilty flush. "Go up to my office, Harry. I'll send him up after you in a little while. The password is 'rhubarb and custard'."  
  
Harry nodded. The old codger must have read his mind!  
  
Harry spent a fascinating half hour in the Headmaster's office, examining carefully, but not touching anything. He still remembered the awful sinking feeling that he had experienced when he thought he had killed Fawkes. He was gently tickling the bird's neck when he heard the door opening.  
  
"I can't stay for long. I must speak with Fletcher Pennywise about next month." Snape strode in quickly, coming to a stop right in front of Harry and Fawkes.  
  
Harry felt nervous. He hadn't had anything in particular to talk to the Professor about. He bit his lip and continued to stroke the phoenix. He could smell Snape, could sense his black stare.  
  
"I prefer your hair worn long like that," Snape said quietly.  
  
Harry went cold, and he found he could not move.  
  
Snape stepped even closer and stroked down Harry's sleeve. Harry tingled all over.  
  
"I hope I'm not making you uncomfortable," Snape said in a whisper.  
  
Harry sighed and looked up into Snape's dark eyes. The expression he saw on the older man's face both terrified him and thrilled him. He knew Snape wanted to kiss him. He could sense the waves of tenderness, and Snape's wonder at the unfamiliarity of it. He opened his mind to the older man, letting his own feelings flow back between them. There was no way that Snape would not realise how he felt. Their Occlumency and Legilimency lessons had ensured that their minds were easily attuned to one another.   
  
Snape took a deep breath, then closed his eyes. Harry waited to see what would happen next.  
  
_Nothing happened.  
_  
Finally Harry had to speak. "Are you all right?"  
  
Snape nodded. He turned his back on Harry and walked back towards the door. He clasped his hands together but Harry could see that he was shaking.  
  
"Were you going to...?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Mr Potter. Why did you want to see me?"  
  
"I don't know. I just..." _I want to kiss you, really kiss you,_ Harry thought, putting all his energy, all his desire, into the feeling. He sensed that Snape was using his own powers of Occlumency desperately trying to block him out.   
  
The Professor took a deep breath. "Soon it will all be over. One way or another, there will be an end to it."  
  
Harry frowned. "What do you mean?" Snape was worrying him now.  
  
"Walpurgis Night. The last of the Death Eaters will be apprehended or..."   
  
Harry nodded as Snape trailed off. He realised nothing was going to happen between them until the Professor had completed his mission. Snape turned his head and their eyes met, both understanding that they must wait. Harry would do nothing to compromise Snape's safety.  
  
"I must return to the Great Hall. Good night, Harry."  
  
"Good night...Severus."  
  
Harry smiled to himself. They had come a long way already, but it was the next part of their journey that had him both fearful and optimistic. 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9  
  
Harry squinted into the sun and felt the sweat dripping under his spiky fringe into his eyes. It also ran down his back and tickled his too warm flesh. It was unseasonably hot for April.  
  
The other team's star bowler started his run up for the last ball of the over and came hurtling towards him like a train. The ball was fast, but Harry had quick reflexes and managed to hit it hard and low for a boundary. There was a light smattering of applause.  
  
Harry stood up straight and stretched at the end of the over. He looked across the green expanse of the oval towards the few spectators gathered on the sidelines. Hermione and Ron were there, standing apart from the muggles. Hermione was fine, coming from a muggle family as she did, but Ron could be a little lost in the company of non-magical folk. Ron had said his parents might even come out for a look, as Arthur was very curious about cricket. It was one of the few muggle sports that rivalled quidditch in its supporters fascination for statistics.  
  
Harry batted on. He enjoyed the one on one confrontation with the bowler and took great pleasure in mixing up his shots and keeping the fieldsmen guessing. He was on a very healthy 45 runs, after having just made another single. Being no longer on strike he had the leisure to look over towards his friends again. Ron's parents had indeed arrived and the four of them were gathered in an animated huddle. Mr Weasley looked up and caught Harry's eye. The older man gave a sort of jaunty wave, but his body language screamed agitation.  
  
A sharp bellow from his partner had Harry jumping guiltily and he ran hell for leather up the wicket, stretching the bat out towards the crease and just beating the ball which hit the stumps. Thus Harry was on strike again, but he had suddenly lost interest in the game. He wanted to find out what was going on. The next ball was slow and he timed his hit just right, belting it high into the air. The bowler himself ran forward and caught it on the full. Harry had started walking even before the catch. His team mates slapped him on the back as he walked through the gate, and he wished his successor luck.  
  
Harry made his way through the familiar supporters towards Hermione and the Weasleys. Molly gave him a hug and Arthur smiled, clapping him on the back.  
  
"That last shot was a beauty, Harry. Marvellous height, really smashing."  
  
Harry laughed, meeting Hermione's sparkling eyes. "Thanks, Mr Weasley. Has Ron ever explained the rules?"  
  
"Don't look at me, mate. Hermione's tried, but that game is incomprehensible. She made me watch it on the telly last week. The bloody commentators only made it worse. They were talking about the 'leg side, on side, off side, square leg' - bloody hell, it's all about legs and sides, but you've got a leg on both sides, so which one is the leg side?"  
  
Harry and Hermione just shook their heads.  
  
"What's the latest at the Ministry, Mr Weasley?"  
  
Arthur frowned. "Bad news there, I'm afraid Harry. Something's put the wind up them, all right. Anyone with the least connection to the Death Eaters is under suspicion. They're going to pull Professor Snape in for questioning. Someone really has it in for him. They'll use any excuse. They caught Fletcher Pennywise with some Elixir of Youth and under interrogation he told them Severus made it, so they're pulling him in for supply of illicit potions."  
  
Harry burned with indignation. "I've got to help him," he muttered. He met Ron's concerned eyes. "I'll just go and say goodbye to the guys, then I'm going to Hogwarts."

Harry was met on the front steps of the castle by the Headmaster.  
  
"You've missed them, Harry. They took Professor Snape to the Ministry about an hour ago. I advise you to wait here until he returns. There really is nothing you can do for him at the moment. Interference will only jeopardise his ultimate mission, not to mention make him very angry."

The Headmaster sighed, seeing Harry's determination to do something. "Perhaps if you went in and said you were waiting to escort him back to Hogwarts. To make sure he returns."  
  
Harry thanked the Headmaster and climbed back on his broom, flying to the edge of the school grounds and apparating in mid air to London.  
  
The Ministry was as strange as ever, and full of desk-flying bureaucrats. After nearly an hour Harry managed to track Professor Snape down to the second level. Like all bureaucrats their pedantic insistance on following procedures gradually wore down Harry's sense of urgency. They let him wait, curious as to why he was there. He told them he was there on Dumbledore's orders, to see that Snape returned directly to Hogwarts. That seemed to placate them.  
  
After another fifteen minutes of waiting a door opened down the corridor and Professor Snape was led out. He signed a couple of papers and was told he was free to return to Hogwarts, 'for now'.  
  
He strode past Harry, apparently totally ignoring him.  
  
"Come to gloat, have you Potter?" Snape sneered as he headed towards the elevator. Harry took off after him.  
  
Once they were alone in the elevator Harry looked carefully at Snape for any evidence of mistreatment.  
  
"Professor, are you all right?"  
  
Snape sighed, leaning back wearily against the wall. "All they managed to do was give me a splitting headache. Amateurs!"  
  
Harry wanted to soothe the man, but Snape was struggling to maintain his usual demeanour. "What did they do? I wish I could help you."  
  
Snape was rubbing his temples, but he looked up and met Harry's eyes. "You can. They'll be watching. Make it look like you're dragging me back to Hogwarts, like Dumbledore doesn't trust me."  
  
Harry took in the rumpled state of Snape's clothing. His eyes were red rimmed and he was even paler than usual. Obviously the interview had been an ordeal. Harry started to move closer when the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened with a loud ping.  
  
Harry grabbed Snape roughly by the arm and dragged him out of the lift. "The Headmaster wants to see you in his office, Snape," he said loudly. Several wizards turned to watch them as they left the building. Harry found an obscene kind of pleasure in manhandling Snape in public, and was rather shocked at himself. Once outside they apparated to Hogsmeade.  
  
Snape started walking towards the castle, his black robes billowing in the afternoon breeze. Harry couldn't help but notice the contrast they made; he was still in his cricket whites.  
  
Harry restored his broom to its actual size and hopped on, pulling up alongside Snape.  
  
"Fancy a ride back to the castle?"  
  
The Professor stopped and regarded him speculatively. He pursed his lips, as if considering the offer. Harry was mildly flabbergasted when Snape climbed on behind him. He was utterly stunned when he felt Snape's long arms fold around his chest. His nipples peaked beneath the thin cotton of his shirt.  
  
Harry face flushed and he felt short of breath. It was all he could do not to lean back and relax into warmth of the larger man's embrace. He shifted his hips backwards along the broom shaft as they rose above the trees. Snape's hair tickled his ears. The shaft of the broom and the presence of Snape so close behind him made Harry feel hypersensitive between his legs. Harry thought a lot about Snape's cock and wondered what it would feel like pressed between his arse cheeks. Snape's body felt rather rigid and tense behind him, as if he was trying to keep his body from relaxing against Harry. Harry wished the flight could be longer, as Snape would have to tire eventually and collapse against him.  
  
They were almost at the castle when Snape suddenly loosened one arm from around him, the movement affecting Harry's balance. He righted the broom and came in for a wobbly landing in the courtyard.  
  
Snape staggered off the broom. He looked very queasy and Harry was concerned. Snape had a handkerchief out and was wiping his nose. Harry was astonished when he saw it was spotted with bright red blood.  
  
"Your nose is bleeding!"  
  
Snape rolled his eyes, a silent reproof at Harry for stating the obvious.  
  
"Come on, the Headmaster is waiting," Harry said in a loud voice as some students appeared. He grabbed Snape by the arm again, enjoying the aghast expressions on the faces of the students they passed.  
  
In the relative privacy of the Headmaster's office Harry relaxed, not realising until then how tense he had become. Snape subsided into a chair, mopping at his nose.  
  
The Headmaster looked up from the large book he was examining. He took one look at the Potions master and went over to a cabinet, withdrawing a flask of golden liquid. He poured a small measure and handed it to Snape, who raised an eyebrow and swallowed it down.  
  
"Why do you think they questioned you, Severus? Are they aware of the Walpurgis Night preparations?"  
  
Severus nodded. "Something has stirred them up, that is certain. They are aware that matters are escalating. The number of disappearances among both muggles and wizards is on the increase, especially in Germany. Several powerful Magical artefacts have been stolen recently."  
  
"You managed to resist their probes I take it?"  
  
"Without too much difficulty. Their training in Occlumency is rudimentary, to say the least. I can protect myself from their attacks, it's just the sheer crudeness of it that can be painful."  
  
"So they did hurt you!" Harry exclaimed.  
  
Snape turned to look at him and frowned. "Why are you wearing Quidditch clothes?"  
  
Harry looked down at his white trousers and shirt and laughed.  
  
"These are my cricket whites. I play for the local side."  
  
Snape looked him up and down, his eyes lingering on the red stain near his crotch. Harry never could be bothered to scrub it clean. It made him look like a serious bowler and helped intimidate the opposition. His shirt was damp with sweat and it was cool in the Headmasters office. Harry suppressed a shiver, the feel of Snape's eyes on him made him tingle all over.  
  
The Headmaster opened a door that was concealed in the wall panelling. "Go and get some rest, Severus. You look tired."  
  
"I'll come with you."  
  
Snape glared at Harry.  
  
"Just to make sure you lie down," Harry smiled and followed the Professor through the narrow doorway.  
  
Snape was quiet as he led the way down the dark, narrow stone staircase to the lower levels of the castle. He walked very carefully, as though to avoid falling. Eventually they came to the familiar corridor outside Snape's cell.  
  
"Thank you, Potter. I think I can manage from here," Snape said as they reached his door. He turned and went inside, and Harry ducked in behind him before the door shut with a loud clang.  
  
"What now?" Snape exclaimed as he sat on the bunk and took off his boots. "Can't you leave me alone?"  
  
Harry was saddened by the note of desperation in Snape's voice. "No...I can't." Harry was in turmoil. He felt compelled to stay - he wanted to be wherever Snape was. He couldn't relax unless he could see Snape. He realised he was obsessing, but could not stop himself.  
  
"Can I hold you?"  
  
Snape lay back on the bed and twisted around til he lay on his stomach, his head pillowed on his hands.  
  
"Now is not the time, Harry," he said in a whisper. "I know you have some interest in me, but you should think very carefully. You don't know anything about me, my past is - "  
  
"I don't care about any of that," Harry interrupted. "I just know how I feel."  
  
"With time and experience your feelings will change."  
  
"Don't say that! You don't know everything about me either. I'm not all sweetness and light. I'm a killer." Harry sat on the foot of the bunk and the hard metal edge dug into his backside.  
  
"You cannot blame yourself for that. It was self defence. You know he would have killed all of us if you hadn't."  
  
"Weren't you just doing what you had to do? What's the difference?"  
  
Snape turned to look at him, his eyes hooded in the dim light of the dungeon. "The difference is...I enjoyed it."  
  
Harry was mystified.  
  
"I enjoyed the power that dark magic released in me. It fed my starved ego."  
  
Harry remained silent in the hope that Snape would keep talking. Whatever had happened to him at the Ministry seemed to have affected his usual reticence.  
  
"I was born into a family that revered all that dark magic represented, but luckily for me my parents were not greedy. My father wanted power over nature itself, not over people. He was interested from a scholar's point of view. He taught me a lot. He died not long before I came to Hogwarts. The way he died was public knowledge and most of the other children shunned me. I reacted by hexing anyone who dared to speak to me. I was bitter and angry.  
  
"Albus was very kind to me. He could see the rise of the Pure Blood Supremacy movement and realised our world was vulnerable. He asked me to befriend some of the older boys and find out what their intentions were. Lucius Malfoy introduced me to Tom Riddle, who had already styled himself as the Dark Lord. I reported it all back to the Headmaster.  
  
"Albus became concerned about Sirius Black. He could see the way the Black family had gone, the path they had chosen. Sirius was a Gryffindor, but Albus was worried about him and the influence that he had over others. He was popular and smart, but also vain and cruel. He could have gone either way. Albus asked me to help him because he knew I had already experienced and rejected the darkness. I tried to befriend Sirius, but he wasn't interested. He thought I was one of them. Unfortunately it turned out it was his brother we should have concentrated on. Do you know what happened to Regulus?"  
  
"Only that he died. Sirius didn't seem inclined to talk about it."  
  
"Regulus was a true Black. The apple of his mother's eye. Sirius always blamed me for his death. I stayed close to him after Sirius would have nothing to do with either of us."  
  
"So how did he die?"  
  
"Killed by Aurors. Using information from me, they caught us torturing some muggles. I suppose it was my fault, as they would never have found us otherwise."  
  
Harry sat in stunned silence. Even as a child Snape had been Dumbledore's spy. He felt a sense of real kinship with Snape. Snape's childhood had been every bit as exploited in the name of the cause as Harry's own. He had always thought that Snape was helping Dumbledore in an attempt to atone for crimes that he had committed in the folly of his youth. He realised that this was probably what everyone on their side thought.  
  
"Why did you agree to do it? Why did you sacrifice your youth, your good name, everything for him?"  
  
Snape sat up and hugged his knees to his chest. "Because it was the right thing to do. Because I thought I could help. Because he was kind to me when no one else was. My mother had taught me the beginnings of Occlumency, and the Headmaster found my skills useful."  
  
Snape shook his head. "That's enough for today. I'm tired of talking." He lay down on his side.  
  
Harry leaned over him and stroked his arm. "Sorry I had to hurt you." He bent forward and gently kissed Snape's forehead. Then he left the room quickly. The clang of the heavy door slamming reverberated in his chest.


End file.
